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by Trenta Capelli and Pellegrino, were | minute orders respecting dress and other unwithin fifty paces of them. Exhausted by important matters. their efforts, Campana and Franceschetti sank to the ground; a general discharge followed; a ball entered the heart of Campana. Franceschetti, however, escaped, and seeing the boat floating close to him, instantly sprang into it, and pushed off. Murat would have followed him, but one of his spurs catching in the fishing-net spread out on the beach, he fell, and before he could rise, the people had seized him. They tore off his epaulettes, and dragged from him the flag he held, and doubtlessly would have murdered him on the spot, had not Trenta Capelli and Pellegrino come to his rescue. These, supporting him between them, defended him from the attacks of the savage peasantry.

He now returned a prisoner over the same ground he so lately had hoped to tread as a king, and was thrust into the common jail amongst assassins, thieves, and other malefactors, who, unaware of his rank, assailed him on his entrance, with every sort of abuse.

Half an hour after this, the commandant, Mattei, entered, and struck with the still dignified air of the captive, rendered him the same homage he would have offered to him had he still been on the throne of Naples. "Commandant," said Murat, "look around you is this a fitting prison for a king?"

At nearly the same time General Nunziante arrived from Santo Tropea with 3000 men. Murat was delighted at again seeing an old brother officer; but he instantly perceived, from the cold manner of the other, that he was before a judge, and that the general's visit was not one of friendship, but to obtain information. Murat confined himself to saying that he was on his way from Corsica to Trieste, to accept the invitation of the emperor of Austria, when he was driven into Pizzo by stress of weather, and compelled to land to procure water and provisions. To all other questions he refused to give an answer, and closed the conversation by asking the general if he could lend him a suit of clothes to appear in on quitting the bath. The general took the hint, and left him. In ten minutes afterwards Murat received a complete uniform, in which he dressed himself, and ordering pen and paper, wrote an account of his capture and detention to the Austrian general in Naples, the British ambassador, and his wife. Tired by the task, he approached the window, threw it open, and looked out. It afforded him a view of the spot where he had been captured. Two men were busily engaged in digging a hole in the sand. Presently they entered a cottage hard by, and returned, bearing with them a dead body. The king in an instant (though the corpse was perfectly naked), recognized the handsome features of the young aid-de-camp Campana. The scene, viewed from a prison window by the fast-closing shades of evening, the thoughts of the captive as he saw one so young, who had died to serve him, thus ignobly buried, the ceremony unhallowed by the rites of religion, far from his home and all dear to him, so much overcame the beholder, that he burst into tears. In this state General Nunziante found him. His looks expressed his astonishment, when Murat hastily exclaimed,

Extraordinary to relate, the moment he announced his rank, the daring captives, who had insulted him immediately before, instantly ceased their revilings, and retiring in orderly silence to the other end of the prison, seemed to pay a just tribute of pity and respect to the misfortunes of their former sovereign. The commandant after making some excuse, requested Murat to follow him to a more fitting place of confinement. The ex-king previous to doing this, threw a handful of gold which he found in his pocket to the people, exclaiming," Here, take this: never be it said that you have" Yes, I am in tears: I am not ashamed received the visit of a monarch, though captive and dethroned as he is, without obtaining largesse from him."

"Long live Joachim!" shouted they. Murat smiled bitterly. The same cries on the public place, half an hour before, would have made him king of Naples.

The ex-monarch now followed Mattei to the little room allotted to him as his future prison, where he busied himself in giving

of them. They are shed for one young, ardent, and generous, whose mother committed him to my care, and who now lies yonder buried like a dog." The general came to summon his prisoner to dinner. Murat followed to another room where the meal had been prepared. He, however, could touch. nothing the scene he had just witnessed had completely overcome the heart of him who had viewed thousands perish around

him, without a sigh, on the plains of Abou-named, with the exception of Francesco kir, Eylau, and Moscow. Froió, owes his rank to me? Naturally they will fear being accused of partiality if they decide in my favor."

Leaving the meal untasted, Murat returned to his room. A sort of fascination seemed to draw him to the window, which overlooked the burial-place of his young friend. Though for a while he had not moral courage to throw open the casement, yet at length, overcoming his repugnance, he did so. Two dogs were busily scraping up the sand from the grave where the body lay: they actually reached it. The ex-king could bear no more: he threw himself on his bed in his clothes; but about daybreak again rose and undressed himself, and returned to his couch, fearful lest his enemies might attribute his agitation to fear for his own fate.

At six o'clock on the morning of the 13th of October Captain Stratti entered the king's prison. He found him in his bed asleep, and desirous not to awake him, was quitting the room, when he upset a chair. The noise disturbed Murat, who started up, and demanded the captain's business. Stratti was so overcome, however, that he was unable to reply. The ex-king therefore proceeded "You have received orders from Naples: is it not so ?"

"Yes, sire," murmured Stratti. "What do they contain ?" "Orders for your majesty's trial." "And who are to be my judges, if you please? Where can they find my equals to sit in judgment on me? If they look upon me as a king, I must be tried by my brother sovereigns; if as a marshal of France, my fate can only be decided on by officers of that rank; if even as a mere general, none less than a general can sit on the bench of my judges."

"As a public enemy, sire, you may be tried by an ordinary court-martial. All rebels, without respect to rank, may be brought before such a tribunal. The law was framed by yourself."

"Yes, against brigands; not, sir, against crowned heads. However, I am ready; they may assassinate me as soon as they like." "Would you not wish to hear the names of the members?"

"Yes, it is as well: it must be a curious list. Read on: I'm all attention."

When he had done, the king, turning to him with a bitter smile, merely observed, "It is well they seem to have taken every precaution."

"How so, sire ?"

"Sire, why not appear personally before them, and plead your own cause?"

"Silence, sir-silence! Such a court, I still maintain, is incompetent: I should consider myself degraded if I pleaded before it. I am aware that I cannot save my life: at least, then, allow me to save the dignity of my crown."

At this moment Francesco Froio entered. He interrogated him. His first question was touching his name, his age, his country? Murat suddenly starting up, cried with all the stern dignity he was capable of assuming, "I am Joachim Napoleon, king of the Two Sicilies; and I command you instantly to leave the room." The abashed inquisitor immediately retired.

Murat now rose, and putting on his pantaloons, sat down and wrote a most affectionate letter to his wife; left his children his dying blessing; and cutting off a lock of his hair, enclosed it in his letter. Nunziante now entered. "Swear to me, general, as a husband and a father," cried Murat, as he folded up the epistle, you will faithfully forward this letter." "By my honor!" said the general, deeply overcome.

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"Come, general, bear up," resumed Murat in a lively tone; "we are soldiers, and used to death. I ask but one favor: allow me to give the word of command to the execution party." The general instantly assented. Froio now returned, bearing with him the sentence of the court." "Read it," said Murat coldly, well divining what it was: "I am ready to listen to it." Froio consented. The ex-king had correctly foreseen his fate. With the exception of a single voice, the court had unanimously adjudged him worthy of death.

When it was concluded, he turned to Nunziante-" General, believe me, I clearly distinguish between the author of my fate and the mere instruments. I could never have believed Ferdinand capable of allowing me to be shot like a dog. But enough of this. At what hour is my execution to take place?"

"Fix it yourself, sire," replied the general.

Murat pulled out his watch; but, by accident, the back presented itse.f instead of the face. On it was painted a superb min

"Can't you perceive that every member liature of the ex-queen.

Ab, look here!" said Murat, address- | yard, where every preparation for his exeing Nunziante; "look at this picture of my cution had been made. Nine men and a wife. You knew her is it not like?" He corporal were ranged close to the door of kissed it, and replaced the watch in his fob. the council chamber. In front of them was "At what hour?" demanded Froio. a wall twelve feet high. Three yards from "Ah, by the by, I had forgotten," said this wall there was a single raised step. Murat, cheerfully smiling. "I had forgot- Murat instantly perceived its purpose, and ten why I had pulled out my watch; but placed himself on it, thus towering about the likeness of Caroline chased away all one foot above the soldiers who were to shoot other ideas," and he looked at it. "It is him. Once there, he took out his handkernow past three o'clock: will four suit you? chief, kissed the picture of his wife, and fixI only ask fifty minutes. Have you any ob- ing his eyes steadily on the party, desired jection ?" them to load. When he gave the order to fire, five only of the nine obeyed. Murat remained untouched. The soldiers had purposely fired over his head.

Froio bowed, and left the room. Nunziante was following him

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Stay, my friend; shall I not see you

"My orders are, that I should be present at your execution, sire; but I feel I have not courage to obey them."

"Well, then, do not distress your feelings do not be present. Still, I should like to embrace you once more before I die."

"I will meet you on the road." "Thank you. Now leave me to my meditations."

After seeing the priests, to whom he gave a written certificate that he died in the Christian faith, Murat threw himself on his bed, and for about a quarter of an hour remained meditating, doubtlessly reviewing his past life from the moment when he quitted the alehouse in which he was born, to the period when he entered a palace as its sovereign. Suddenly starting up, he seemed to shake off his gloomy thoughts, and approach ing a mirror, began to arrange his hair. Wedded to death from his infancy, he seemed anxious to deck himself in the most becoming manner now that he was about to meet it.

Four o'clock struck. Murat himself opened the door. General Nunziante was waiting outside.

"Thank you," said the ex-king; "you have kept your word. God bless you; goodby. You need follow me no further."

The general threw himself sobbing into his arms.

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It was at this moment that the lion courage of the hero showed itself-that intrepid coolness for which he had ever been famed. Not a single feature was disturbed. He stood perfectly steady and unmoved, as with a smile of melancholy gratitude he addressed them.

"Thanks, my friends-a thousand thanks; but as, sooner or later, you will be compelled to aim directly at me, do not prolong my agony. All I ask of you is, to fire straight at my heart, and avoid, if possible, wounding me in the face. Come, let us begin again ;" and once more he went through every word of command. At the word "fire," he fell pierced by eight balls, without a struggle, without a sigh, without letting the watch fall that he held in his left hand.

The soldiers took up the corpse, and laid it on the same bed in which he had lain down in health and strength some ten minutes before. A captain's guard was placed on the door.

That night a stranger presented himself, and demanded admittance to the room. The sentinel refused. He desired to speak with the commandant. To him he showed an order for his free entry. The commandant, as he read it, shuddered with disgust, and expressed great surprise. The perusal, however, over, he conducted the man to the door of the death-chamber.

"Allow Signor Luigi to pass," said he to the sentinel. The soldier presented arms to the commandant. Luigi entered.

Ten minutes afterwards, Luigi came out, carrying some object in a pocket-handkerchief stained with blood. What it was the sentinel could not distinguish.

An hour afterwards, the undertaker entered, bearing the coffin intended for the king's No sooner had the man, however,

The king now proceeded to the court-remains.

crossed the threshold, than in an accent of indescribable horror he called out to the soldier, who rushed in to learn the cause of his terror. The man, unable to speak, pointed to a headless corpse.

On the death of Ferdinand, in a private closet in his bedroom this head was discovered, preserved in spirits of wine. The reason was thus explained by General T-: "As Murat was put to death in an obscure corner of Calabria, Ferdinand continually feared some impostor would spring up,

and assuming his name and appearance, raise the standard of rebellion. The real head was therefore always preserved to confront and confound any false pretender to the throne, by proving the death of Joachim. Murat."

Eight days after the execution at Pizzo, each man concerned in it received his reward. Trenta Capelli was made colonel, General Nunziante was created a marquis, and Luigi died of poison!

From Hogg's instructor.


which being, at the time we visited it, in full bloom, imparted to the whole place a singularly pleasing effect.

BUSINESS having lately called us into the northern district of the county of Buckingham, we resolved to fulfil an intention, long cherished, of visiting the small town of But the Cowperian feature in Newport is Olney, one of the meanest and most insig- an unpretending house in the main street, nificant of English market-towns, but hal about two stories high, and holding out, in lowed for ever in the affections of every ad- its exterior features, no sign that would atnirer of genius, as the residence for so tract the notice of a stranger. This was the many years of Cowper, who has immortal- residence of the Rev. William Bull, Indeized the scenery in its neighborhood in his pendent minister at Newport Pagnell, a poems, and not less the daily life of its in- friend of Newton, who, on his leaving that habitants in his letters. part of the country, introduced him to CowOlney is five miles from Newport Pag-per, and between whom a friendship, disnell, which again is nearly four miles dis- tinguished by all the warmth and strength tant from the Wolverton station of the of Cowper's affections, soon sprang up. London and Birmingham Railway. The The independent minister was a man after portion of the country thus intersected by Cowper's own heart-a man of considerable the iron-way forms a sort of peninsular erudition, with an active fancy, and a vein triangle, protruding itself between the two of quiet humor, which was sure to recomadjoining counties of Bedford and North- mend itself to the author of " John Gilpin." ampton. Of this triangle Olney forms the By way of eking out a salary, which must apex, being in part the most northerly town at all times have been scanty, Mr. Bull in Bucks. But the interest of the district took a few pupils into his house as boarders, to the lovers of Cowper's gentle spirit, be- with a view to prepare them for the Disgins at Newport Pagnell. This is a respect-senting ministry. Out of this humble beable country town of about 5000 inhabitants, with several good inns in it, and a fine old church, in the Gothic style, situated with even more than the usual attention to the picturesque which is usually displayed in the sites of English churches. Newport church stands upon a natural terrace, on the left bank of the river Ouse, towards which stream the churchyard gently slopes down. A row of tall trees fringe the river brink, and disclose at intervals, through their foliage, the quiet stream flashing in the sun-light. The southern wall of the church is covered with the China aster rose,

ginning has since arisen an institution of some note among the English Dissenters, being in fact one of their academies for the education of their pastors. In this respect, it may be remarked, the English Dissenters are not so fortunate as their Scottish brethren. The English universities being closed against them, they have to educate their candidates for the ministry, not only in systematic divinity, but even in the elementary studies necessary to fit them for their sacred profession. The college at Newport Pagnell has been much extended of late years, and several eminent ministers


now flourishing in the Independent denomination, have received their education there. The extension of the college has caused the extension of the premises, but these additions have been all in the rear of the old house; in front it maintains the same appearance as when Mr. Bull resided in it, and when Cowper, footsore and weary with his walk from Olney, came, by appointment, to dine with the minister, who had forgotten all about the invitation, and had dispatched his wife some miles into the country. Between two such spirits, however, ceremony was not wanting, and these little cross purposes, no doubt, only served to enhance the mirth and enjoyment of their meeting. In the back of the house, however, things are altered. Long unsightly brick buildings, intended, we suppose, as the private apartments of the students, rear their heads and appear to occupy altogether the place of the small garden, which, at great labor and expense, Mr. Bull had reduced into something like cultivation, and where, Cowper tells us, he took him, after the dinner above alluded to, and showed him his favorite seat, "where he sits and smokes, with his back against one brick wall and his nose against another." The chapel of which Mr. Bull was the minister is still farther in the rear of the house, and though it is a large and commodious place of worship, and apparently numbering many of the most respectable inhabitants among its hearers-at least if one might judge from the number of elegant monumental marble tablets which were ranged along its walls-yet, hidden as it is, and enveloped on all sides by other buildings, a stranger might easily pass through every street of the town, without knowing that it possessed a Dissenting chapel at all. This modest character of Dissenting chapels is almost universal over England-even in London itself, and still more in country towns. The old dissenting churches are hidden in yards or back lanes, or, as here, in the rear of private premises, never coming openly to the front, and challenging the notice of the passers by. This is in all probability a relic of the persecuting days of the Stuarts, when conventicles in market-towns were strictly forbidden and eagerly hunted down, and when the Puritans were constrained to hold their meetings in secret places, concealed as much as possible from their lynxeyed persecutors.

The Ouse, on leaving Newport, takes a bend to the north, forming an arc of some


compass between that town and Olney, of which the highway may be described as the chord. The road presents nothing of much interest, until, about halfway, the crest of some considerable rising ground is gained, whence the first view of Olney, with its tall church-spire conspicuous in the landscape, bursts upon the view. The fertile vale of the Ouse lies at your feet, and a country, beautiful indeed, and rich in suggestions of plenty and comfort, but possessed of few bold or striking features, is spread out before the spectator. It is in fact, the opposite ridge to that on which Merton is situated, and would have afforded to the poet as good materials as those which the view from the above furnished him, when he drew that fine description of woodland scenery which occurs in the first book of the "Task." With expectations heightened from this first view of the poet's home, we hastened forward, and on reaching the bottom of the hill, we were able to extract another reminiscence of Cowper from a sign-post that pointed out the road to Clifton.

opposite side of the river to Olney,
Clifton is a neighboring parish, on the
for some time the residence of Lady Austen,
and was
a woman whose name will always be asso-
ciated with Cowper, along with Mrs. Unwin
and Lady Hesketh. She it was who first
incited him to the writing of the "Task,"
and gave him the sofa for his subject. It
was an abortive attempt to visit her in miry
weather which gave occasion to his sportive
ballad, so truly revealing the gentle and
playful character of the man-
"I sing of a journey to Clifton

We would have performed if we could,
Without cart or barrow to lift on
Poor Mary and me through the mud,
Slee sla slud,

Stuck in the mud!

But we had no time to visit Clifton, and
Oh, it is pleasant to wade through a flood!"
therefore, contenting ourselves with chant-
ing the ballad (as Burns says,
till a body's sell does weel aneuch"), we
turned in the opposite direction, through
the rich meadows that led to Olney. A
short time brought us to the bridge, no
longer the one

"That with its wearisome but needful length

for that, it is well known, was, even in the
days of Cowper himself, considered a nui-
sance from its old age and decay, and many
allusions are made to it in his letters, where
Olney people for its renewal, which Cow-
we find an attempt was made to assess the

Bestrides the wintry flood;"

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